Saturday September 1, and the trip begins. I remembered it was my mother’s birthday; she would have understood the adventure and been thrilled to hear every detail about it. She had taken a trip, on her own, to Hawaii back in the 1940s. Her diary is in one of the trunks at home. Good reading.
Rachel drove me to the airport to catch the KLM flight to Amsterdam. Long layover there (5 hours or so) before flying on to Kilimanjaro International Airport in Arusha. I think I took Friday off but that was it. Work had been very demanding from May 24th, the day we won the big contract, all the way through the end of August when we had a major review. Thinking of the trip had kept me going.
It was a quick drive to Dulles, a kiss good-bye, and a look in Rachel’s eyes that told me she really didn’t understand why I was doing this but that it was OK as long as I came back in one piece. It had taken a long time to get her to that point.
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